“That’s a wake-up call, for sure,” I admit. “What does it have to do with dogs, though?”
“A brave K-9 attached to our unit saved my life.” His voice grows serious. A bit low, slightly gritty, like the memory burns his throat coming out.
I can relate.
Some memories just do that to you. They burrow through your grey matter with hooks and claws, and every time you rake them out from the back of your mind, they draw blood.
But it’s not always bitter. There’s some sweetness too. And I can see it in the way he smiles.
Not with his mouth, but this tiny, half-hidden light swirling in his blue eyes.
My stomach flips. I’m suddenly worried it’s not just the espresso martini making my cheeks heat.
Oh boy.
“There was a small town outside our base. The people were good to us, always sending intel about terrorists, so we protected them. One day on our routine patrols, there was a hidden improvised explosive.” He pauses, watching how I stare before his eyes return to his drink. “Ihad no clue—my unit would’ve walked right into the damn thing if we didn’t have Oscar with us. Big old Belgian Malinois, friendly as hell off duty, more focused than a lot of people when he worked.” He smiles. “Oscar smelled the bomb, and if he hadn’t ...” He trails off, but I can fill in the gaps.
“So scary,” I say softly.
“It’s what lit a fire under my ass. Dogs aren’t toys. They’re real companions. Sometimes, they save your life. That’s why I’m pouring energy into my current project. Working on a good, organic dog food that doesn’t cost more than the processed stuff. I want dogs like Oscar to eat well and live as long as possible.”
“Dog food? I thought you made your money with some kind of dating app?” At least, that’s what the internet said.
“I’m out of that game. Sold my entire stake off to a bigger company last year.”
“Why?”
“It got my foot in the door and let me make my own money and make connections, rather than resting on the family business. Still, it’s not what I care about. Another round?” He gestures for two refills. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” I shake my head. “I’m sick to death of dating apps, and I barely remember to charge my phone. I’m overworked at a small clinic and undersocialized. My friends are getting married to superheroes and living their best lives. I’m stuck with my bad self because my last date wouldn’t shut up about his fifty-dollar investment in a crypto coin with an anime logo. Blah.”
Too honest?
I wonder when I see the way he cocks his head.
“Never asked about your dating life, Sass.”
My face heats. It’s in the way he says it—no silly nickname should be that devastating.
“Hey, you asked for a briefing. That’s my messy, boring life. Stay away if you’re smart.”
“I’m more interested in today, woman. You going to tell me why you always leave work looking like you’ve had your heart split in two?”
Holy ouch.
The memory comes sweeping back, all sharp claws. The wound reopens in my chest, gushing fresh sorrow.
I think about Dr. Ezzie. Her defeat and despair, the sad way she’s resigning herself to being eaten by a shark before we ever put up a fight.
God, the way shehasno fight.
One meeting, and Harry’s sucked that much life out of her.
“That face,” Brady rumbles, sipping his new cocktail and setting it down with aclink. “That’s the one I’m wondering about. You’re wearing it now.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m in no rush.”
